


If I were you

by chuuyay



Series: If I were you [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Humor, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuuyay/pseuds/chuuyay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yata and Fushimi switch bodies and have to cope with their new environment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I were you

Fushimi wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with a defiant Strain at eleven PM but he didn’t have much of a choice.  
  
“He’s headed your way, Fushimi-san, he’s just around the corner!” Enomoto called through his in-ear. In less than a second their objective already showed up, looking strangely disoriented.  
  
Fushimi tisked and pulled his saber out of the sheath. They were supposed to capture this Endou person, but until now he had been able to outrun them time and time again.  
 “Resist and we’ll have to use force,” Saruhiko said, closing in on the Strain, who decided to push him aside and leap away in a flash.

  
Fushimi deadpanned. That little shit was pissing him off. Would chasing him down all night be of any use at all?  
  
“Did you catch him, Fushimi-san?”  
 “No,” Fushimi growled in response, “Keep track of him, he ran off into Hidaka’s direction.”  
“Got it!”  
  
Fushimi placed his sword back to his hip and sped after the Strain. Whatever he was planning, and it didn’t appear like he wanted to get violent, it was Scepter 4’s job to disable Strains from causing a possible ruckus. At least they were doing _something_ useful, unlike that bunch of hoodlums at the bar.  
  
He grimaced when he heard wheels come to a skidding halt, followed by the sound of something crashing on the ground and a plethora of colorful cussing. Fushimi sped out of the alley way and saw Yata lying on the sidewalk with his skateboard ten feet away from him. The Strain was nowhere in sight.

 

“I see, so our target has escaped. You’ve worked hard, Fushimi-kun.”  
Fushimi clicked his tongue, holding his PDA against his ear as he gazed at the ground. “Such praise is wasted on me, Captain. He ran off to God knows where he’s planning to go.”  
“But you haven’t lost track of him, correct?” Munakata asked, “Chasing him the whole time wouldn’t be the best strategy. I believe your work is done for tonight. Tomorrow we will recommence our mission.”  
“Understood.” Fushimi ended the call and let his phone slip back into his pocket, when a furious roar resounded through the cold, starry night.  

  
Fucking Misaki, waking up everyone and their mother.

  
 “Keep quiet, will you.” Fushimi demanded once he found himself in the back of the vehicle. “You’re destroying my eardrums.”  
Said loudmouth brat was being held down by Akiyama and Benzai, with the latter holding onto his bruised eye in pain. Fushimi clicked his tongue.  
“Causing a scene as usual, huh.”  
“Shut up, stupid monkey!” Yata bit back. “I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want any of you filthy Blues near me!” He struggled himself out of the helpless officers’ grip and ripped off the bandages around his head. Fushimi could only roll his eyes.  
“In case you didn’t notice, _Misaki_ , you got attacked by a strain. The only thing we did was provide you with medical-“  
“I can take care of myself just fine!” Yata retorted. “So no need to kidnap me into your shitty van!”  
“If you could you wouldn’t be taking off those bandages. Also, I didn’t kidnap you, it’s a part of my job to ensure you’re alright. I’ll fight you any day when I’m off-duty.”  
There was some incoherent grumbling Fushimi couldn’t decipher. Yata was quick to recover.  
 “Fine. Alright. You wrapped me up. Can I go now?”  
Fushimi sighed. “I never said you weren’t allowed to leave.”  
“Great, because I ain’t planning on staying here a second longer!” And gone he was, the skateboard-carrying idiot.  
  
“The Red Clan sure is a lively bunch…” Akiyama mused, now tending to his colleague’s wounds instead. “Fushimi-san, do you know what abilities the strain he ran into possesses?”  
“So far nothing funny has happened since that guy chickened out.” Fushimi said in response. “We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.”  
  
If only he knew how much trouble was awaiting him.

  
\--  
  


The obnoxious blaring of his alarm clock woke Yata from a lavish sleep. He knew something was wrong when he drowsily opened his eyes and the room was just as dark as when he had them closed. Yata hadn’t even set his alarm in the first place; he had a day off from work, meaning he could nap for as long as he wanted. On instinct he grabbed a pillow and hurled it into the direction his alarm would be, but it landed against the wall and fell on the ground with a thud. The alarm continued its hideous symphony.

 

Yata groaned. This wasn’t how he had imagined his Saturday to start off. He pushed himself out of his bed and two minutes of groping around and exuberant cursing later, he found the light switch.

Oh boy how he wished he had stayed in bed because this was turning into a nightmare. For reasons unknown his vision was blurry, but he could make out the contours of the strange room he was in and it _wasn’t_ his.

 

“What in the fuck is going on?” he questioned, knowing full-well nobody was going to answer him. Now in a state of panic he looked into the mirror beside him and let out a shriek.

 

His hair was jet-black, his complexion pale and he had grown four inches overnight. Yata Misaki was trapped in the body of a despicable monkey.

No, that was impossible. He was still sound asleep, in the midst of a terrifying nightmare. Yeah, that was the only logical explanation he could think of. To ensure he wasn’t ready for asylum hospitalization, Yata kicked the wall. The searing pain had him curse, lose balance and fall on his butt. In other words, he wanted to slam his head against the wall and cry.

 

He sat there, for a couple of moments, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next, until someone knocked on his door franticly.

“Fushimi-san, is everything alright?” asked a voice.

Well, fuck.

 

Yata froze. Some Blue dipshit had probably heard him stumble around and wanted to check on him.  What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t exactly tell them he had woken up in a strange bed and a strange body, could he?

 

“Fushimi-san!”

 

“Fuckin’-“ Yata pulled himself together and scrambled off the floor, “I’m coming, so be patient, will ya?!” He almost fell over his own feet in hurry and when he opened the door, the blood rushed away from his head.

 

Yep. He had successfully infiltrated into Scepter 4’s hellhole without even wanting to. Some dude in an ugly blue uniform he would have to wear too was standing in front of him with a puzzled gaze. Yata stared him down.

 

“What the fuck do you want?” he barked, too late to realize that that might not have been very Saru-like of him. He wouldn’t put it past the monkey to be bitching every morning though. The Blue jolted away.

“Uh, I just-“ he stuttered, “I heard a loud noise coming from your room, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble.” He took a step further away from Yata, who was squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear the blurriness from his vision.

Now, what would Saru say in a situation like this?

“I’m fine. I just-“ Yata paused, “Fell off my bed, is all.”

The blue and brown blur in front of him let a relieved sigh slip past his lips. “That’s good to hear. I’ll see you later at breakfast, Fushimi-san!” Just as he was about to turn and leave, Yata realized something.

“Wait-!” he called out, effectively stopping the Clansman from departing. The blur was facing him again.  
“What is it, Fushimi-san?” he asked.

 

“Please help me find my glasses.”

 

  - -

 

Fushimi was better at dealing with the initial horror than Yata was. Being able to see without prescription was odd, walking around in a tiny body made even less sense, but he was certain this was all temporary. As long as he made sure to inform the Blue King about his situation and beat that Strain into giving him his body back there was nothing to fear.

Thus, Fushimi started to make his way to Scepter 4’s headquarters posing as a skateboarding runt. Apparently the role fit him like no other because he was only halfway and someone he did not want to see at all at this moment approached him.

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto called out to him, and Fushimi winced from sudden exhaustion, “Yata-san, where are you headed? The bar’s right there, y’know! Come on, otherwise Kusanagi-san ain’t ever gonna let us live it down?”

“What?” Fushimi inquired, wondering what the hell those dumbasses had done that _he_ was supposed to make up for their imbecile mistakes. Kamamoto quirked a brow behind his shades. “Did you forget? You threw that expensive plate out of the window because you were mad at me!”

Fucking Christ.

“And now we – or more like, you – have to clean up the bar to pay back for the damage you caused the other day.” Kamamoto concluded.

Fushimi groaned. This did not compute with his original plan at all. Why did he have to run into this idiot now, of all times?

“Listen, _fatty_ , I’ve got something urgent to do-“

“Well it sure can’t be more urgent than this, Yata-san!” Kamamoto interrupted, and ignoring Fushimi’s protests he slung an arm around Fushimi’s shoulders. Saruhiko’s attempt to wrestle himself out of his grip were futile, it only resulted in getting pulled even closer against the red clansman.

“Let’s go and hope for the best!”

“I fucking hate my life.” Fushimi wheezed as yet another roll of fat collided with his face, and he was dragged into the direction of the bar, away from his objective.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'll update this one.


End file.
